Tangerine Dream
by Visions
Summary: AU. Bittersweet love story. NamixSanji. Sometimes love happens, whether you want it to or not.
1. Default Chapter

My first OnePiece attempt. The title was inspired by a DAI song my friend introduced me to. Hopefully it works out okay. Please respond! Feedback welcome. 

Tangerine Dream

Hey, good-lookin', what's cookin'?

Insert charming smile here. 

That's generally how I approach her, the love of my life. 

A corny line coupled with my best grin. Flowers always play a role. When I can afford them, I visit the most expensive bouquet shop on the block. When I can't, the garden next door always looks like it has too many flowers anyways.  

I don't know how many I've given her so far. Carnations yellow, lilies blue, tulips pink… And roses upon roses, all red to symbolize the passion and the love in my heart…

It never seems to work, though. 

Maybe it's because she knows my offerings are sometimes stolen goods. She never treats them as anything special. A look, a smile brighter than the sun, and a "Why thank-you, Sanji-kun!" for all my pains as if I had just retrieved the moon for her instead of two daisies neatly plucked from a bush in the park. 

Then it's back to her papers, coffee, and the endless scribbling as she bends over her work with a concentrated albeit cute expression.

I'm usually left standing, my wallet a little lighter or the neighbor's garden a little emptier, depending on the day and how many hot dogs I've sold that morning. One doesn't make much as a hot dog vendor and flowers are financially overrated.

But I don't mind, not often. Because from the side, I get a great angle of her face in all its sweet loveliness – her eyes as they narrow, cat-like and clever, her lips moving as she murmurs how much something will cost, voice edged with glee…

Even the cackles that sometimes burst forth are adorable, if a tad unexpected. But I've learned that the love of my life has a certain gloating quality; it's evident when she congratulates herself on some newly thought up 'plan'. 

It's usually some new system of file-organizing or so she usually explains with a small cough, somewhat embarrassed. She comes up with these plans, these systems a lot, I think. She's a wonderful secretary. 

…But I don't know if that's a good enough reason for why I keep coming back. Don't know, for instance, if there's any for why I've been stopping by her office to drop off flowers everyday for the last three months. A reason for why there are three roses, crimson and exquisite, right now in my hand and why my feet are moving toward her desk the way they moved yesterday and the day before that and the day before that…

Maybe it doesn't exist. My mind is always blank when I try to think of good excuses and there really are none except that way she lights up, the way her eyes fill with something other than guarded suspicion, mistrust, and bitterness. 

Maybe I just don't want to see the love of my life sad. 

My feet stop. I pluck off petals, let them fall, and watch her gasp as they cascade like rain. The red blends in nicely with her orange hair and reminds me of autumn. 

She looks up at me, exclaims with what I hope is delight but could just as easily be reproach, "Sanji-kun!" 

She's dressed nicely today, as befits her status as top secretary. Her business suit is a clean blue and matching skirt shows off her legs. I wear a pair of jeans, cigarettes in the back pocket, and a greasy t-shirt. I have long legs, too, but they're nothing worth showing off. 

I give her the flowers and when she smiles, something melts in me. 

Some of the other secretaries in the room giggle, some snicker, and some look anxious so I know that the security guards will be here soon. Spare the chit-chat and get your ass outta there, common sense tells me. 

But love is never about common sense, is it?

I want a better view of her fleeting happiness, that brief gratitude in her eyes and never her smile that makes me think that this daily ritual might mean something after all to the both of us. 

I lean forward, "Hey, good-lookin', what's cookin'?"

~@@@~ 

He's such an idiot. How old is that line anyway? 

But my lips smile anyways, mostly out of habit. It feels like I've been smiling my entire life. I can't afford tears.

"Why thank you, Sanji-kun!" I force myself to sound enthusiastic and to stare into the blue eyes that are full of affection. He has astonishingly beautiful eyes, even if his eyebrows are overly curvy. But to look too long would be an indulgence. Five seconds pass and my duty is done. Now it's your turn. Be compensated and leave.

I turn back to the work before me but he lingers, irking me with his presence.

No worries. The guards will be here soon to get rid of the pest. 

I ignore my conscience and pretend to focus on numbers I don't even really see. But his breath suddenly by my ear makes me tense and I'm abruptly aware that he's looking over my shoulder, that we're close and that I can feel the heat from his body. 

"Another system?" he asks curiously.

"Yep," I lie with a casual perkiness. He's near and I inhale his scent, trying not to seem obvious. He smells greasy and smoky at the same time. 

"Oh yeah, another system!" a voice calls, high and derisive. It's Mrs.Merry Christmas, "Nami's brilliant at filing, doncha know?"

"Of course she is," he replies and everyone laughs.  
  


Doesn't he realize he's being mocked? I hide a grimace of annoyance at his naivety. But I can't tell if I'm more angry at him or myself. He beams like he has something to be proud of and I know with a pang that he's just proud of me. 

A wave of anger hits me suddenly. He's SO stupid! A stupid, lovesick BOY! There's nothing here to be proud of. 

The guards burst through the door, yelling angrily and Sanji bids me a hasty, ringing farewell.

"Until tomorrow, Naaaami-san!"

He's fast. I blink and he's a blur, dashing on his long legs out the other exit.

He's gone. I sigh with relief. Now if only he'll stop coming back.

Somebody whistles and I stiffen automatically upon seeing the head security guard. Nico Robin leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, smile amused.

"Beautiful boy," is her comment, "He's something. He's going to escape my men again, I can tell."

"He's something, alright. An idiot," I say, "He thinks I'm a secretary." I laugh but I can tell that she's not convinced. Her next words make me catch my breath in horror.

"He may be an idiot but you're the fool in love with him."

The fear is overwhelming. I swallow it down, fight the panic, and glare at her, "Don't be stupid. He's nothing to me."

"Oh really?"

"Really," I tell her with conviction, scowling. I make my face hard like stone, and when she studies my expression, she sees nothing but coldness.

"Does that mean I can tell Crocodile of these daily visits?" 

"Tell him whatever you want," I retort breezily, "I don't care."  
  


But I do and my hands begin to sweat from underneath my desk. If anything happened to Sanji, a part of me knows I would never be able to forgive myself. 

"Crocodile wants to see you in his office now," she announces after a moment of silence, "It's important."

I get up, instantly apprehensive. He must want something. The thought is frightening.

As I walk past her, her arm comes up to brush something off my shoulder. It falls slowly and I catch it in my hand so that it rests gently on my palm. It's a petal from one of Sanji's flowers. For a moment, time freezes and I remember his smile, his warmth. For a moment, this tiny red fragment means the world to me.

She's watching me closely now. I can feel her gaze, intense, calm like a predator looking for weakness.

I deliberately turn my hand over. 

The petal falls, lonely. I step on it, crushing it with my heel almost forcefully before heading toward the elevator that will take me down to Crocodile's office. 

When I feel her eyes leave me and know that she is gone, I glance back hopefully. But there is nothing left but a blood-stain on the carpet. 


	2. Chapter Two

Enjoy!!

Chapter Two

It's the end of the day. I try to ignore the setting sun and how cold the wind's gotten but reality persists. I'm beat and the bus is late. Bad combination.

With a sigh, I start walking, trying not to grimace at the nine miles that stand between me and my apartment. 

I reach the crosswalk, press the button, and am halfway across before I'm nearly killed.

The air is suddenly filled with screams. Tires scream. Somebody screams, "Watch out!!"

My head jerks, the cigarette falls forgotten from my mouth, and I scream.

The car stops a millimeter away from crushing my body and all its precious organs. I jump back instinctively, heart pounding at the close brush with death. It's a beautiful machine, undoubtedly foreign. It's silver. Shiny, too. Probably custom-made. Any other day, I would've admired it but considering how this well-made contraption nearly flattened me into a human pancake, I'm in no mood for admiration. 

Angrily, I kick the headlight off the offender and it crashes to the pavement with an unpleasant clatter. 

"You idiot!" I can't help but raise my voice, "You nearly killed—"

I stop, aghast, "Nami-san???"

She stares at me, looking ashamed and horribly pained before turning away. "I'm sorry," she says. Her voice is shaking, her whole frame trembles, and I'm suddenly afraid that she's going to pieces right in front of my eyes. 

"It's alright," I tell her and when she looks at me in surprise, I grin, "If I was plastered to your tires, it'd be a different story but I'm not so it's alright. Don't worry about it."

"You…" she says disbelievingly and she clenches her lip as if holding back tears.

"Don't worry about it," I reassure her again, disturbed by how fragile she appears right now. 

She nods slowly and I walk away. But before I've taken three steps, she's driven up to my side. 

_Is she angry about the headlight?_ I think anxiously, nervously. I can't afford to replace it. I turn to her, ready to plead. 

"Hop in," she says, not meeting my eyes, "I'll give you a ride home."

~@@@~

The parking lot is empty and I'm thankful. I don't need anyone to witness how horrible I'm feeling right now. 

I walk to my car and each step seems tainted, clumsy. My body is like lead, heavy. Or maybe it's just my mind. My meeting with Crocodile went the way it always goes so I suppose it's understandable that I feel like dirt. 

_"You're brilliant…"_ I remember his compliment and his laughter. I scowl, thinking of my own smirking response, and am sickened. I clutch my stomach, trying to fight the nausea and guilt. 

I slide into the driver's seat, turn on the engine, and try not to think about it. Damn conscience.

The sky is brilliant outside. The sun sets against a backdrop that is the shade of purple, blue, and flaring red. It's a momentary distraction. I gaze at it wistfully. 

…What would Bellemere say if she knew? She, who had given her life to save children? Would she hate me??

My foot presses the gas and I know I am trying to lose myself in the acceleration. But the hatred remains. I can't ever outrun it. Hopelessly, blindly, I press harder, not caring that I'm going well beyond the speed limit.

Faster… faster… I don't want to be here anymore…I want to be with my family…Far away from here… 

I've closed my eyes without thinking and it's only when someone screams that they open again. Somebody's in front of me, in my way. 

Shock. Then panic.

Stop, stop, STOP!!

My breath catches in my throat. I slam on the brakes, my mouth opening in a silent prayer that it isn't too late.

The force of the stop throws me forward and then back. My neck is aching. But Sanji is alive. Thank God. I sigh with relief. Sanji's still alive. 

…Sanji?

He curses and kicks the headlight off my car. I blink in shock, dumbstruck. And then the headlight crashes noisily to the ground and the impact of what I could've done suddenly hits me.

I could've killed him. The image of him, broken and bleeding on the ground, flashes through my mind. Against my will, tears rush to my eyes. _Murderer_, a voice taunts from the back of my head, _When will it ever stop?_

"Nami-san???"

I meet his astonished gaze and the sight of his face, tenderly concerned, makes me want to die right then and there as I recall my recklessness. I was only an inch away from mindlessly killing this naïve, white soul… 

My cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment as I search frantically from something to say. But _what_ can I say? What can I possibly say to someone whose life I almost took?

"I'm sorry," I manage finally, hating the lameness of those words, hating the weakness in my voice, hating how my whole frame seems to be shaking from some emotion I can't control. I want to apologize again, apologize a hundred times. But it won't be of any use. So I just clench my teeth, waiting for the whiplash I'm about to receive.

He'll hate me now. For sure. He'll never come around again with those silly flowers. But that's a good thing. 

It's good, right?

So why am I so… I bite down hard on my lip, unwilling to finish the thought, suppressing the rain in my eyes. Let him yell, let him rage, and when it's all over, let him leave. It's all for the best anyway. 

It's all for the best to let him go…

"It's alright."

Against my will, my head jerks up to look at him. 

"If I was plastered to your tires, it'd be a different story but I'm not so it's alright. Don't worry about it."

"You…" I say haltingly, confused by his words, by his forgiveness. 

"Don't worry about it."

Before I can sort out my thoughts, he walks away and the sight affects me more than I expect. My foot steps on the gas pedal and I drive up to his side. 

I look away to avoid the brilliance of his eyes, suddenly realizing that I have no idea what the heck I'm doing. 

But maybe some part of me does because my mouth opens on its own accord and I say, "Hop in. I'll give you a ride home."

Maybe he knows how guilty I feel and how much I need this because he doesn't question me, doesn't refuse. The next sound I hear is the slamming of the passenger door followed by a murmur, "Arigatou…"

I try to act normal as if this isn't the first time we've done this whole take-you-home thing. "Where to, Sanji-kun?"

"3572 All Blue Street. It's an apartment building complex in," he pauses, thinks, and then says, "the other side of town."

It's code for the local slum and a nice euphemism for a place that is notorious for its dangers. I notice that his shoulders have slumped and that his lips have drooped into a frown. 

"Look, Nami-san…" he begins with unusual seriousness, trailing off uncomfortably.

"Sanji-kun?" I venture.

"You don't have to take me home," he finishes and with a sudden fierceness I've never seen in him, he says, "It was a mistake to even get in here… I shouldn't have bothered you, Nami-san…"

He tries to get out.

But I'm prepared. The car races forward and to my satisfaction, he is forced back into his original position by the motion.  

"Don't be a fool, Sanji-kun," I tell him as I drive. I try to sound as upbeat as I can, "You're not bothering me at all. If anything, I enjoy your company when you choose to grace me with it. Besides, I_ should_ drive you home. It's the least I can do after I almost… I almost…"

The words are stuck. My attempt at cheerfulness has backfired. My casual demeanor abruptly fades and once again, I become aware of the hollow, guilty feeling inside.

"It's ok," he says quietly from the side.

"It's not," I reply. 

We arrive in front of a grey, dilapidated, two-story building. The apartment doors are yellow with age and some are missing the appropriate numbers. For some reason, I find myself surprised that Sanji lives here. His carefree personality doesn't belong in such a dejected area. The parking lot is filled with litter and a stray, black cat glares at us suspiciously as I enter. 

"We're here," I say and I turn to him with a fixed smile in place. Somehow, politeness remains the best barrier, "May I walk you up to the door?"

He stares at me curiously and does not object. I take this as a good sign but he remains oddly quiet, from the moment we ascend creaking stairs to the second floor to when we've stopped in front of a yellow door. 

"How do you know which room is yours without numbers?" I ask, letting my fingers graze the rotten wood that lacks numerical digits.

"I've lived here a long time."

He fishes out a key, inserts it into the doorknob – ironically new and golden – and twists. The door opens and the most delicious aroma, a combination of smoked sausage and sweet waffles, wafts out. It's dark inside but it feels homey and welcoming from where I stand. 

"Seems nice," I comment, resisting the urge to take a closer peek.  

He nods his farewell, takes a step forward into his home, and then pauses halfway, taking out his lighter. "Nami-san…"

"Yes?" I smile brightly…

…only to be immersed within a cloud of smoke. It's thick and everywhere. I cough a bit and my eyes water. I close them and for an instant, I can't see anything.

Warm arms wrap around me and pull me close as Sanji crushes me gently to his chest. My hands are pressed against the cheap cloth of his shirt and I can feel his heartbeat through my fingertips. 

He smells good, like tobacco, like fast food, like temptation.

"It hurts sometimes to see you smile."

His voice is low and intimate. 

"Because it's so beautiful yet so sad at the same time."

I can see better now and my chin drops comfortably onto his shoulder. I let it rest there.

"Don't ever feel like you have to pretend around me because…"

Here, hesitation creeps in and he sounds afraid. Before I understand what I'm doing, I raise my hand to touch his cheek in silent encouragement.  

His embrace tightens fervently and then I hear his him, whispering softly into my ear, "…because I love you." 

The smoke clears and I'm standing alone. Dazed, I wonder if I had imagined it all. I stare for the longest time at the door, wanting to knock but unsure of whether I should. Then, slowly, I walk back to my car.

It's amazing how fast he can light a cigarette.  


End file.
